


Memories

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-06-23
Updated: 2001-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-15 23:25:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14799965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of theWest Wing Fanfiction Central, a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in theannouncement post.





	1. Memories

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

The Schedule: Memories (Part 1 of 3)

Category: J&D/General  
Rating: G  
Summary: Weeks 8 and 9 or Leo's schedule has J&D, Abbey Bartlet, and others dealing with the necessary obligations of the survivors to the deceased. A continuation to 'The Schedule: Memorial'.

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, but you knew that already. Feedback: Is a rare and precious commodity.

(Voiceover) Previously in 'The Schedule': The Setup, Week Five, Special Dispensation, A Memorable Event, Safe Harbor, Shared Dreams Memorial

 

 

* * Thursday, Week Eight * *

It wasn't 'all over' after all. Their dreams of making a difference wouldn't go down without a fight. The President had made what was sure to go down as one of the most memorable off-the-cuff speeches of the 21st century in declaring that he would indeed run for reelection. That, all Americans, rich or poor, healthy -- or diseased -- still have a responsibility to future generations to try and make this world a better place. And that he, Josiah Bartlet, wasn't done yet! Leo always said he knew that President Bartlet could lift houses off their foundations with his oratory. He had proven it last night.

They'd stayed up through the night celebrating and making plans for re-election, running on their adrenaline highs until almost dawn. Occasionally the fervor would die down and a momentary sadness would cross one of their faces at the memory of all the events that had happened that day. A day of emotional extremes from grief over the loss of Mrs. Landingham, to the sick feeling of devastation over the loss of their dreams of a Bartlet legacy, finally, to the emotional euphoria as they heard they still were in the fight.

It wouldn't be easy, but the overnight's were looking good. The President's 'favorables' were running at 67%. The Republican's would counterattack and, no doubt, knock that down to 48% before they bounced back. Still, it was a fantastic victory considering they thought they were heading to the press conference to hear a whipped President admit his defeat, then resign in disgrace or else he and they could look forward to spending the next year and a half running around with their tails between their legs like so many whipped dogs.

President Bartlet had finally gone back to the residence around midnight. to face the First Lady and find out just how mad she was. Donna, CJ, and Leo had left around 2:00 a.m., leaving Josh, Sam, and Toby strategizing until dawn. At 6:30 Leo arrived back at the office to find them just as he'd left them, even rehashing the same discussion points as they had when he'd left. He ordered them out of his office. They ignored his orders to go home and rest -- not until the overnight polls were final.

At 7:00 the President arrived in the West Wing and called Leo into the Oval Office. At 7:15 Leo called Josh into his office.

"Hey. What's up?" Josh asked, leaning onto the back of a wing chair.

"The First Lady is making the trip to Manchester for the burial. The President can't go. It'd turn into a sideshow not a funeral. You're..." he shrugged, "...recognizable... you're to represent the staff."

"Yeah... sure. I can fly up there in the morning then..."

"No." Leo stated flatly. "Mrs. Bartlet wants you and Donna to spend the weekend at the Manchester house with her. You're leaving this afternoon."

"Leo! Can't you get me out of it? I've got to..."

"I already tried." Leo said holding up a hand. "The President says the First Lady won't take 'no' for an answer. He's gonna let her have this one. Go tell Donna; then get packed. The Motorcade leaves for Andrews at 3:00."

"Yeah." He ran his hand through his already disheveled hair, "Okay."

"And take a shower, will you! You look like hell. Mind your manners. Don't get mushy with Donna in front of anyone. And don't piss the First Lady off talking about the re-election. She's not on board with that yet."

"Leo..." Josh said with an exasperated sigh. "Yes, ma'am."

Leo tilted his head to the side and smirked at the jab. "Get out. And get back here ASAP! I want to go over...-- whatever it was you came up with -- before you leave."

* * *

Josh called Donna and advised her to drop everything and rush home and pack so she could accompany the First Lady to Manchester at a moment's notice. Surprisingly, Donna didn't seem in the least bit flustered by the news. Josh was momentarily suspicious of that, but dismissed the thought as absurd and chalked it up to Donna's increased sense of professionalism with her new responsibilities coupled with the lack of need to hide her emotions behind a barricade of banter.

* * *

"Hello, Josh. Donna" Abbey Bartlet greeted Josh and Donna brusquely and climbed into the awaiting limousine.

Josh and Donna exchanged glances and raised eyebrows at each other in unspoken agreement that the First Lady was evidently not in a good mood and this might not be the most pleasant ride to Andrews AFB they'd ever made. Josh reached out and lightly took Donna's arm to guide her into the limousine, then followed suit. The secret service agent closed the door and rapped on the roof of the vehicle to signal the driver to proceed.

"Mrs.--" Josh began, "Dr. Bartlet, I want to thank you for inviting us to..."

"Can it, Josh. I'm sure you'd rather stay here and work. Suffice to say I have my reasons for taking you and Donna with me."

"Uh... Yes, ma'am."

"Ma'am?" Donna asked after a few minutes of awkward silence. "Are Zoey and Ellie coming up for the weekend too?"

"No. Just for the funeral tomorrow. They have finals next week and need to study. Ellie's flying up with Zoey and Charlie. Mrs. Landingham used to baby-sit the girls occasionally. Jed was in the House then. She had been his father's secretary back when Jed was at St. Andrew's Academy. His father was Head Master. Did you know that?" Mrs. Bartlet asked looking at Josh.

"No, ma'am. I didn't."

"His father was a sanctimonious prick."

Josh and Donna exchanged startled looks to hear the First Lady speak of anyone that way, let alone her late father-in-law.

Abbey Bartlet shrugged, "Well he was. He looked down his New England Anglican Patrician nose at his own Catholic wife and son, then later at his son's Catholic best friend and wife. He would have loved you," she added sarcastically.

Josh wasn't quite sure why Mr. Bartlet, Senior would have cared about him one way or the other, but figured he would have been doubly unacceptable to papa-Bartlet as the product of a nonpracticing-Jew and a lapsed-Catholic.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Oh for God's sake, Josh! For this weekend, at least, call me 'Abbey'. Like back in the campaign. You too Donna."

"Yes, ma'am... Abbey." Donna blushed slightly. She hadn't been on a first name basis with Abbey Bartlet during the campaign.

The Air Force guard waved the First Lady's motorcade onto the Base and they proceeded to Flight Operations and out onto the tarmac where a Navy jet was standing by to ferry the First Lady's entourage to Manchester, New Hampshire.

The First Lady excused herself to Josh and Donna stating that she had some correspondences to attend to and calls to make during the short, hour and a half trip to Manchester. Josh and Donna sat further back in the plane and quietly talked for the duration of the flight.

They arrived at the stately Tudor mansion that Jed's grandfather had built for his bride in 1910. She had been the only daughter of a Midwestern lumber baron who'd been sent to New York to find a suitable husband. Jed's grandfather Zachary had been sent to New York to find a suitable wife (and sow some wild oats) after completing his education abroad. The Bartlet fortune was in no danger of being exhausted, having been built over two hundred years on lumber, shipping, railroads, mining and banking, but Zachary Bartlet marrying the fair, and very wealthy, Eleanor Morgan had been a cause for gala celebrations in three states.

Josh put his hand to Donna's back as much to calm himself as to guide her movement into the house. She'd been there once for a private victory celebration for the campaign staff. Josh had been there numerous times; mostly just short visits to brief Governor Bartlet on the campaign, and had stayed the night maybe a dozen of those times. He'd certainly never expected to be there as a guest of the First Lady though. He still wondered what that was all about. He knew Dr. Bartlet was concerned about the President's health and was worried that she might have brought him here to convince him to persuade the President not to run. He really didn't want to get caught in the middle of a showdown between the Bartlets.

"Welcome home ma'am," the butler greeted the first lady.

"Thank you, Jeffrey. You remember Josh Lyman and Donna Moss."

"Yes, indeed. I have your rooms prepared. If you'll just follow me. Dinner will be served in 30 minutes, ma'am," he said to the First Lady.

"Thank you, Jeffrey. That'll be fine." To Josh and Donna she said, "Just come back down when you've unpacked. I'll be in the library."

Josh and Donna were shown to their rooms and another servant followed with their luggage. Jeffrey told them to leave anything that needed pressing on the bed and he would see to it during dinner. Josh tidied himself up and unpacked in five minutes flat. Then he headed to Donna's room to hover while she carefully unpacked and hung up her clothes.

"Did you lay your suit out for tomorrow?" she said as she laid her own black dress on the bed for the servants to pick up and press. She could get use to this business of having servants make sure you didn't show up at important events in wrinkled clothes. Much better than having to hang it in the shower and try to steam the wrinkles out, or scrounge up an iron and ironing board. She'd done that enough on the campaign trail when there wasn't time to send their clothes to the cleaners.

"Yeah."

"Josh quit pacing. Sit down already."

"I better not. I'm liable to fall asleep if I do that."

"Okay. Let's head down then, I'm done here anyway."

Josh and Donna joined Dr. Bartlet in the den then ate dinner with about the minimal conversation allowed without all parties being considered terribly rude.

Over after-dinner drinks, Dr. Bartlet said, "Josh. You have about ten minutes to get upstairs and get into bed.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said you have about ten minutes to get up to bed. You're about to go out like a light and I assume you'd rather go up now than for me to have you carried up."

"You drugged me?"

"You have about nine minutes now, but I could be wrong."

"I can't believe..."

"Donna, you'd better get him upstairs. I said I had my reasons, Josh. Consider yourself under a doctor's care for the next three days. Get him upstairs now, Donna."

"Come on, Josh," Donna said taking Josh by the arm and pulling him towards the stairway. Donna guided him to his room and helped him remove his suit jacket then had him sit on the bed while she removed his tie and shoes.

"Can you manage from here? You still have about four minutes, I think," she asked, leaning over him and rubbing his left shoulder with her hand.

"Yeah. Whatever she gave me must've been some powerful stuff. I feel like I could sleep for the entire weekend," he said yawning.

She pulled him to his feet. "You've still got a couple of minutes. Get ready for bed. You don't want to sleep in your clothes. Move! Now, Josh! Goodnight," she said and gave him a quick kiss before departing.

Donna went back down to the den to find Mrs. Bartlet. "He's totally exhausted. If he weren't, he probably would have realized that you didn't have the chance to drug him, even if you wanted to."

"The power of suggestion and one helluva good poker face. You should work on that. You're gonna need it marrying a politician. He was ready to fall asleep any minute; he just needed permission to do so. Don't be surprised if I do give him a sedative tomorrow night, though. He's exhausted his reserves. I haven't seen him look this worn-out since Christmas."

Donna gave a slight gasp. She knew he was tired and had done what she could to ease the burden for him, but like most of the staffers who saw him on a daily basis, he just looked 'like Josh' he didn't look that bad to her --but then, she thought ruefully, he could never look bad to her... "Do you think... I mean, he hasn't been yelling or anything."

"I hope not Donna, but that's not a chance I want to take. I wish I'd been around more at Christmas instead of being the 'First Lady of Christmas Cheer' to the world. Maybe I would have noticed..." she shook her head at the pointlessness of discussing 'maybes'. "Stress could bring on an episode of his PTSD. Dr. Johnson said his blood pressure was up to 173 over 103, Tuesday. Did he tell you?"

"No, ma'am... he said it was up a little... That's... not a little." 

"No, it's Stage 2 Hypertension. It could just be temporary. I'll check tomorrow. If it's still high, he's going in for a through physical next week."

"I doubt he'll like that."

"Tough. He's got his work cut out for him if he's gonna get Jed through this next year. And Heaven knows, I've got enough to worry about with Jed's health, I don't need Josh falling over from exhaustion, having an episode of PTSD, or worse -- a heart attack."

"I should be doing more." Donna felt like it was her fault that Josh had gotten to a point where the First Lady was intervening. "It's just..."

"I know Donna. You're not even his fiancée yet. Plus he's a grown man. He's used to making his own decisions." She sighed, "I'm in the same boat. I love Jed for being the brilliant and egotistical jackass who wants to take the world by the throat and shake it until it changes to the way he knows it should be. But I'm so scared of what that fight could do to him..."

The First Lady's face crumbled with emotion as the mask of the confident Dr. Bartlet fell to reveal Abbey the woman who loved Jed. Donna didn't know what to do. She didn't know Mrs. Bartlet well enough to reach out to hug her. She just felt a terrible empathy for the First Lady, as one woman who loved a man with heath problems to another. She had to say something... do something... and there was nothing she could say. She couldn't offer platitudes. President Bartlet's MS wouldn't go away by wishing him to 'get better'.

"I... I'm so sorry about the President. I'm scared too. We all are." Donna said weakly, holding out a hand in sympathy.

Mrs. Bartlet sniffed and shook her head as she collected herself. "I know Donna. I didn't mean to dump on you. It's just with everything that's happened..."

"Yes, ma'am... Abbey. I didn't think you... I mean. It's like we have something in common -- worrying about the President and Josh," Donna fumbled for words.

The First Lady grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. Smiling at Donna she asked, "What say we watch a nice romantic comedy and forget about troublesome men for a while. 'While You Were Sleeping' seems appropriate."

"Perfect!"

* * *

A couple of hours later the First Lady and Donna went upstairs to their rooms. The First Lady stopped at Josh's door to peak in on her sleeping patient. Donna couldn't resist peaking over the First Lady's shoulder. Josh was sprawled on his back across the bed. One arm was flung off the side of the bed, one bare leg was sticking out from under the covers. He was snoring lightly and was obviously dead to the world. Dr. Bartlet slipped into the room and gently lifted his arm back to his side and adjusted the bedcovers. She turned back to the door and caught Donna staring at Josh with a look of naked desire. Mrs. Bartlet took Donna's arm, startling her into the realization that she'd been caught with her mouth hanging open staring at Josh. She blushed as the First Lady steered her out of the room and closed the door quietly behind her.

"It won't be much longer Donna. I have the same reaction when I see Jed sleeping. They look so innocent and vulnerable when they're sleeping. You forget what jackasses they can be when they're awake. I think it's a part of our genetic makeup to make us want to mate with them and perpetuated the species. Like babies being cute so we'll protect them. Hang in there. Just a couple more months and he's all yours."

"It's just so hard to wait sometimes... "

"I know. But I also know, that you know, he's not ready yet. He's still recovering."

"I... I worry sometimes that he's too dependent on me. That it's a Florence Nightingale thing and that he'll regret... That he doesn't really..."

"No, Donna, no. That's not it. He's never acted like a lovesick patient. Believe me, I've seen a few in my day!" she chuckled reassuringly. "You two have always been... well... a couple. It just became more natural to think of you that way after he was hurt. Don't ever doubt his love for you."

"Thank you, Mrs. B-- Abbey."

"Get some sleep, Donna. Tomorrow's not going to be easy."

"Yes, ma'am. Goodnight." Donna opened the door to her room across the hall from Josh and went inside.

* * *


	2. Memories 2

 

The Schedule: Memories (Part 2 of 3)  
By: Jenna

 

 

Josh should have slept until nine or ten from sheer exhaustion, but the habit of recent years had him awake at dawn. He realized where he was and dutifully tried to go back to sleep until other people awake. His mind wouldn't cooperate and he gave up at 6:30, and dressed in sweats in hopes of an early morning jog.

Josh wandered down to the kitchen in search of coffee. The kitchen staff and several secret service agents were there ahead of him. The agents greeted him and a servant got him a mug of steaming coffee. Josh thanked the woman and made polite small talk with the agents whom he knew slightly. He joined two of the agents for their morning jog. The agents made sure to take it moderately easy. It wouldn't look good on their records if they ran one of their charges to the point of collapse, and they knew this particular charge was special. Nevertheless, the First Lady chewed Josh out when he got back for adding to his exhaustion when he should have been recovering from it. Really though, that was more a matter of course than anything. Privately, she and Donna both thought he looked better for the exertion and hoped it would help him sleep that night.

Not long after breakfast it was time to get dressed for the funeral. Several dignitaries as well as Charlie, Zoey, and Ellie were expected to come to the house before the funeral. Mrs. Bartlet had also invited Mrs. Landingham's great-niece, Beth, to come by. Beth Olsen was in her late-20s and was the granddaughter of Mrs. Landingham's younger sister. She proved to be a petite young woman with light brown hair and a quiet but determined way.

When Josiah Bartlet had asked her to join him in Washington after winning the election, Mrs. Landingham had known there was no sense in retaining the old Victorian house in Manchester that she and her late husband had painstakingly restored over the previous twenty years. "Besides," Beth explained, "she said she didn't have much heart to live there any more." She sold the house and most of the furniture with it. Beth had come up from Boston to help her pack a lifetime of possessions into 52 boxes -- 'one for each week' -- and an assortment of suitcases, hanging bags, and odd-ball items that were to be moved to a small, 'ridiculously-overpriced', one-bedroom apartment 'not too close but too far' from the White House. "Aunt Delores wanted to rent a U-Haul truck and do it herself, but President Bartlet assured her that the U.S. Government could pick up the tab for the movers." Beth had been the one hitching a U-Haul trailer to her ancient ('classic') Volvo station wagon and driving it back to Boston stuffed with all the 'family heirlooms': a cedar chest that had belonged to her great-grandmother, a couple of quilts of said great-grandmother's, an old Christening gown, great-grandmother's china set that came with boxes of soap power in the 1930s, and an assortment of old linens and knickknacks.

"Going through all her stuff with Aunt Delores had been fun -- like a treasure hunt. She told me stories about the history behind each item... Now I have to go through her stuff without her... I'm dreading it. But I have to clear out the apartment next weekend and the lawyer wants me to look for any important papers..." Beth slumped under the weight of the sad responsibility she faced.

Twenty years ago, even 15, Dr. Bartlet would have volunteered to help clean out Mrs. Landingham's apartment. Since she'd become the wife of a Governor, and now the President, she didn't have that freedom. There were protocol and security issues with every movement. That torch had been passed. She glanced at Donna.

Donna accepted the torch. "We can help. It's not something that anyone wants to do. Much less have to do alone. Josh, can look for any important papers. I can help you sort and pack. Maybe I can get Margaret to help... "

Beth sat up and breathed a sigh or relief. "If it's not too much trouble... that would be... I --so-- don't want to do this. I feel like--" her voice caught in a sob and she looked away to compose herself. Mrs. Bartlet reached over and rubbed her back.

Josh looked at Donna in the awkward silence and cleared his throat. "Sam might be able to help for a little while too. I'm sure there won't be a problem with my getting away," Josh glanced at the First Lady who's look confirmed that his schedule *would* be clear for however long he was needed, "but... I... I don't know about anyone else. It's liable to be a war zone by then."

"I understand if you can't make it, Josh. I don't want to impose," Beth said.

"Don't worry about it, Beth. Josh and Donna and whomever else can be spared will be there to help you next weekend," Dr. Bartlet assured the young woman. "Come on, dry your tears, you're about to meet the Mayor and a couple of City Council members who probably only met your aunt once, but they have to make an appearance."

After meeting the local political dignitaries and the arrival of Charlie and the two younger Bartlet daughters shortly thereafter, they formed a mismatched motorcade to the funeral parlor. The press was awaiting their arrival and both Dr. Bartlet and Josh Lyman were singled out for statements. The First Lady made a brief statement and excused herself, offering up Josh Lyman as sacrificial lamb. Josh felt a little self-conscious at knowing that he was 'recognizable' -- as Leo had put it -- as an extension of the Presidency because he was 'the guy who got shot' along with the President.

The press hinted around at wanting a comparison of his personal experiences and feelings of mortality when faced by the tragic death of a long-time Bartlet staffer. They asked about the President's health, the possibility of congressional hearings, and Bartlet's re-election chances. Josh gracefully and graciously sidestepped the political questions and reiterated the sad loss they all felt. No, Josh thought, the President could not have come here. Not after his announcement. The media feeding frenzy over that would have overshadowed the funeral. He politely freed himself from the reporters and went inside to join Donna.

Again, Josh and Charlie acted as pallbearers, but this time with four men they'd just met -- distant relations or friends of Mrs. Landingham's late husband. One, a middle-aged man who had been friends with her sons back in high school... The funeral procession drove the 20 miles through the green countryside northwest of Manchester to the rural family cemetery outside of Chase Village where Mrs. Landingham was laid to rest along with her husband and sons, her parents and grandparents, and her memories of picnics by the brook.

* * *

The Bartlet girls and Charlie headed straight to the airport from the cemetery. Beth, Josh, and Donna rode with Abigail Bartlet back to the house, arriving about 3:30. Beth would stay for afternoon visitors paying their condolences and then for dinner before driving the hour trip back to Boston.

Any number of politicians, including the current Governor, stopped by to pay their condolences. The Governor had never said more than five words to Mrs. Landingham -- and only two of those polite -- back when he was the opposition leader and constant thorn in Governor Bartlet's side. He was enough of a political wheeler-and-dealer to know his absence would be noted and could be taken as an insult to the President. Better to be safe and play both sides of the field until Bartlet was impeached. Beth and Abbey received their phony condolences with good grace even when they knew the person obviously had no idea who Mrs. Landingham was -- they just knew she was connected to the President. Josh and Donna kept watch and quickly whisked away the worst of the phony-mourners and political glad-handers wanting to use the occasion to 'get in' with the First Lady or Josh and, by extension, get the ear of the President. No... it was best that the President hadn't tried to come to Manchester. He could come up later and spend some time in quiet reflection out at the gravesite.

Josh sighed and rubbed his tired back. He'd been standing too long, making nice to the local political gomers. He looked over to where one of the gomers distinctly appeared to be attempting to flirt with Donna. He was gonna put a stop to that right now. Not only was it 'his' Donna but also, it was damn unseemly to be trying to hit on someone at a funeral. He walked over and put his arm around Donna's waist. Smiling dangerously at the New Hampshire state representative he politely asked if he planned on running for re-election next year. The young representative got the message. He gulped, made an unintelligible answer, and fled. Donna smiled brightly and assured Josh that the representative would be no loss to the Party if he didn't run again --although she hadn't quite figured out which party that was...

By 6:30 the last of the mourners and pseudo-mourners had departed. Dr. Bartlet, Josh, Donna, and Beth were able to sit down to a quiet dinner and finalize their plans. Donna offered to pick Beth up at the airport Friday night so they could work all weekend cleaning out Mrs. Landingham -- Aunt Delores' -- apartment. Beth turned down Mrs. Bartlet's offer to spend the night, saying she had to get back or her cats would get mad and sulk. Mrs. Bartlet accepted the excuse, figuring that Beth was really just ready to get away from the tension that comes from the constant awareness of the security and protocol surrounding the President or First Lady. She smiled and told Beth to have Donna and Josh bring her over to the White House for a visit next weekend if they had time. She gave Beth's shoulders a brief squeeze and sent her on her way.

Josh and Donna walked her to her car, reintegrated their condolences, assured her they'd see her next weekend, and waved goodbye. As they watched the old Volvo drive away, Josh and Donna wrapped their arms around each other and Josh rubbed his hand up and down Donna's right arm. After the car was out of sight, they turned to fully hug, Josh briefly dropped his face into the intimate wedge between Donna's neck and shoulder and quickly kissed it. Funeral or not there was still a schedule that they were expected to follow, and only discrete public displays of affection were allowed. Lately, it had been difficult to even find the time for their allowed 5-minute goodnight kissing session -- not that they'd felt much like making-out lately. Death, disease, and fear for the future were proving not to be as romance inducing as they were made to look in the movies. They broke the hug and arm-in-arm returned to the library where Dr. Bartlet was waiting, blood pressure cuff in hand.

"I've been waiting to do this all day. Come on," Dr. Bartlet said, gesturing for Josh to remove his suit jacket and join her on the sofa.

Josh sighed and silently complied. There really wasn't any point in complaining about it. He just hoped she wouldn't personally give him a physical. It was one thing to have your boss' wife take your blood pressure or check out your scar, but her telling you to take a whiz in this cup was too much for a man to bear. He tried to relax and think peaceful thoughts so his blood pressure would be nice and low. It didn't work.

"157 over 98."

"It's usually lower the second time. I think I tense up and it makes it higher," he explained.

"I'll try again in a few minutes. Still, that's way too high -- a lot higher than it had been -- and that's not good. Dr. Johnson said he tried to give you a physical last week and you put him off. I want you to find the time to get that physical when we get back." Dr. Bartlet said.

Josh nodded his assent as Dr. Bartlet wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his arm again.

"He'll find the time," Donna assured the First Lady.

"152 over 92. Better, but no cigar. You still seeing your therapist?"

"Not that much, anymore. Every other week now, and he thinks maybe I could do fine with just once a month... or he did...'

"How are you, Josh? Are you okay with my asking that?"

"I can leave if you..." Donna offered.

"No, stay. I'm fine. I mean, with your asking. I'm doing okay. I get tense still around sirens... in motorcades... but I can manage. It helps to be distracted. I still can't listen to more than about two minutes of orchestral music, especially Yo-Yo Ma, but that's not just... there's too many other memories there." He looked away refusing to elaborate. They both knew about his sister and the fire that had taken her life and left him with what was basically his initial case of PTSD. The PTSD had really just resurfaced and been compounded upon by his own near death in Rosslyn. The fact that it was triggered by the music had been the clue for that.

"Josh... did Donna tell you I didn't really give you anything last night?"

"Yeah. I guess I was pretty tired."

"I will give you something tonight, if you'd like..."

Josh looked up at the First Lady, realizing that her offer was actually a recommendation. That she thought that their discussion combined with the funeral might cause his demons to wake in the night. And he was still in desperate need of rest. Josh realized that she was probably right. He nodded, "Yeah."

"Go on and get ready for bed then. I'll be up in a bit," Dr. Bartlet said smiling gently, glad that Josh had readily agreed.

"Yeah." Josh said turning to leave.

"I'll just..." Donna said motioning towards Josh who stopped to wait for her.

"That's fine Donna," the First Lady smiled.

Josh and Donna walked slowly up the stairs and took their full five minutes to say good night. Then Josh went in to prepare to spend -- probably -- the next 12 hours asleep. Donna returned to the library to find Mrs. Bartlet going through her doctor's bag and checking that she had the items she wanted. She smiled in reassurance to Donna. "He'll probably sleep 'til noon then be groggy, but that'll force him to rest, and that's what we need him to do this weekend."

"You sure he won't have any reactions or anything?"

"No. He's had this before. He'll sleep soundly. No nightmares, I promise. I'll be back in a few minutes," Dr. Bartlet said taking her bag and leaving the room.

Donna watched forlornly after her. She trusted Dr. Bartlet's judgment, as did Josh, but the memories of Josh being drugged into a healing sleep haunted her thoughts....

* * *

The First Lady and Donna Moss ate breakfast; Josh slept.

Dr. Bartlet and Donna took a walk in the garden; Josh slept.

Abbey Bartlet and Donna played tennis; Josh slept.

Abbey and Donna sat down to lunch; Josh still slept.

"Shouldn't he be up by now? I mean... what if he's..." Donna fretted.

"Relax. I looked in on him a couple of hours ago, Donna. He's fine. I'll check on him again after lunch if it'll make you feel better though," Dr. Bartlet smiled in reassurance at the young woman.

Donna looked relieved. "It's just that-- " she hesitated.

Mrs. Bartlet gave her an inquisitive look and encouraging sound.

"It's nothing, really."

"Donna..."

Donna sighed, "It's just that when he was in the hospital... I knew they were keeping him drugged... making him sleep... It's silly... but I... I was just so scared that he wouldn't wake up. I guess I realized then just how much I loved him, 'cause I would have been one of those women who throw themselves on the funeral pyre. Only...well... not really, of course. I would think that someone would stop me even if there were a funeral pyre, which there wouldn't be... I'm sorry, I'm babbling..."

"Donna, why don't you run upstairs and check on Josh so you can eat your lunch. I assure you he's sleeping soundly."

"You don't mind?"

"No, it's fine Donna. Lunch will keep another five minutes. Run along and make sure he's still breathing, already."

"Yes ma'am. I'll just be a minute."

Donna hurried up the stairs and stood outside Josh's room listening for a few seconds to make sure he wasn't already up and getting dressed. She softly spoke his name just in case he was awake and then carefully and quietly turned the doorknob. Peaking in she he was curled on his side with his back to the door. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door a bit further and partially edged her way in the room. She noted the slow up and down movement of Josh's strong t-shirt clad back. She smiled and shook her head at her silly need to just make sure he was all right, but she felt better for knowing. Now she could relax and enjoy her lunch. Slipping back out of the room, she closed the door behind her turned to rejoin the First lady. Josh lived to fight another day.

* * *

Josh finally awoke around 1:00 and took a shower to try to erase the cobwebs. It didn't help. He fumbled his way downstairs and found Donna in the Bartlet's comfortably furnished family room about to watch a DVD.

"Hey, Sleepy, look what I found," She said holding up A&E's 'Emma'.

"Don't you know it by heart by now? You only watched it -- like -- 50 times while I was recuperating." He said making his way to the sofa and flopping down.

"That was 'Pride and Prejudice' and 'Sense and Sensibility' we watched. And it was only twice. This is another Jane Austen. You'll like it. An older guy's in love with his young neighbor but can't tell her 'cause it might ruin their friendship. You'll relate," she said loading the DVD player and grabbing the remote. She returned to the sofa and sat down, pulling Josh down so his head rested in her lap. He put his feet up and settled in. Donna draped her arm down his chest and wrapped her fingers around his hand. Josh drifted off in a couple of spots, but for the most part the tale of Mr. Knightly and young Miss Woodhouse held his attention.

Josh felt Donna stiffen when Mr. Knightly lashed out at Miss Woodhouse for her cruel rudeness to the dotty old Miss Bates. Her fingers laced through the top of his, he lifted them to his mouth and kissed them then nuzzled them with his chin. They both understood the repressed passion and that sometimes it lead to cruel words. Struggling with the early stages of reawakened PTSD hadn't helped either. She understood him. His cruel words had been her first clue that something was terribly wrong with him. Normal-Joshua would have made sarcastic remarks, but he wouldn't have deliberately and cruelly belittled her. Normal-Josh was arrogant and smug and hotheaded at times, but he was always in control his emotions. That was out-of-control-Josh.

That was a wounded-Josh both crying out for help and pushing it away. She hadn't known what to make of it that night, but she started watching him after that. Most days he seemed fine, but she started putting seemingly unrelated events together. Then the music started and the pilot crashed, and it was becoming obvious to more than just herself that Josh was losing it. Donna started searching the Internet. She found her answer. She didn't know what to do though. To voice her suspicions might cost Josh his job. Then she saw the bandage and remembered another fact she'd come across -- to not speak could cost Josh his life. And Josh's life was vastly more important than his job.

The movie ended and Josh rolled over on his back and looked up at Donna, all his smirking, smug protective coatings stripped off and his hidden vulnerability laid bare. "Donna... When I said that about your self-worth, I wasn't... I... I'm sor--"

She stroked his hair as tears came to her eyes, "Shhh... you've done nothing to apologize for -- well, you have" she quirked a half-smile, "but not that. I knew that wasn't you. I knew something was happening to you then. It helped me figure it out, so..."

"Yeah. I... I just wanted to make sure you realized I didn't mean that. I think you're incredible. You can do anything you set your mind to do. Like Knightly, 'I can't make speeches. If I loved you less, I might be able to talk it more' but... Donna, I would be thrilled, humbled, and unbelievably proud if you would consent... if you would do me the honor of marrying me.

Donna smiled and stoked his hair. As the tears fell from her eyes onto his face, he sat up and pulled her into his arms.

"Donna... you need to say something...you can't just... you know... I mean... I know you're planning the wedding and all, but 'you do consent?'"

"'I do.'"

Josh kissed her than pulled away smiling widely. "That's a relief. I survived White Supremacists, but I'd never be able to survive the White House if you decided to have no part of me now."

"Josh... you know you're a day early. It's still week eight."

"Leo can just deal with it," he said kissing her again.

"So does this mean you're going to break more of the rules?" came a voice from the door.

"Mrs.-- Dr. Bartlet!" Josh and Donna broke apart and stood up.

"Answer the question, Joshua."

"Well... not any important ones."

"Remember you signed an oath," Dr. Bartlet reminded him sternly.

He sighed and slumped his shoulders slightly, "No... I guess not." He looked down at the floor then looked at Donna and reached out to take her hand. "It's just... it was the right time to ask, even if it was a little early."

"I'm sure Leo will understand when you explain it to him. Why don't you call him right now."

"Right now?" he gulped.

"Now." She said frowning sternly and patting the phone on the table.

"Yes ma'am." Josh said walking over and sitting down next to the phone. As he dialed, Dr. Bartlet looked up at Donna, smiled and winked. Donna smiled back and walked over to Josh. She stood behind him and draped her arms around his neck.

"Leo? I screwed it up... I broke the rules. I know I wasn't supposed to but--"

"Josh! I told you to behave! You're in the President's house for God's sake. I'm gonna kill you myself. If you and Donna have been--"

"No. Leo. No. Nothing like that. I... I asked her to marry me..."

"What?"

"I asked Donna to marry me. I know I was supposed to wait for week nine and that won't be until tomorrow..."

"You asked Donna to marry you?"

"Yeah... I'm sorry... Well...not really. I'm not sorry I asked her to marry me, but I should have waited. I swore to follow the rules. I signed an oath, and I broke it. It... it just seemed like the right moment..." Donna leaned down and nuzzled his neck.

"Is Donna there now?"

"Yeah."

"Put her on, will ya."

"Leo wants to talk to you." Josh said handing her the phone.

"Hi Leo."

"You sure you want to marry that doofus?"

"Dr. Bartlet's here too. She caught him saying you could just deal with it."

"Donna!" Josh practically screamed.

"That explains it then. I take it she bullied him into this dumbass confession."

"You got it."

"Tell Abbey I owe her. How's he doing"

Donna didn't answer.

Leo sighed. "That bad?"

"Not quite."

"Put the doofus back on. Oh, and Donna... best wishes and all that stuff."

"Thanks, Leo. And I'll tell her you appreciated it." She handed the phone back to Josh and went over to talk privately with Dr. Bartlet.

"Yeah?" Josh said into the phone.

"Congratulations, Josh. Your father would've been proud. I'm proud..."

"Thanks, Leo..." Josh said softly the emotion causing his voice to break. "So... you're not mad?"

"No, I'm not mad. But don't break any more rules or I'll lock you in that basement conference room for the next three months!" he growled. No sense in letting Josh know about the big lump in his throat at the moment. "I better go tell the President. He'll take all the credit, you know."

"Yeah. Well, in all fairness, it is his house..."

"Yeah. Josh... get some rest, will ya. You sound exhausted."

"I'm still a little groggy from the... Mrs. Bartlet gave me something last night to make sure I... we'd been..."

"Josh... you okay?"

"I'm fi-..." Josh stopped and sighed. He'd learned better than to lie about this. "I'm not sure."

"I'll have Margaret call the therapist and get you an appointment for Monday afternoon. In the meantime take it easy. Let Dr. Bartlet and Donna take care of you. Hear?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Leo. For everything..."

"I'll see you Monday."

"Yeah. Good night."

* * *

 


	3. Memories 3

 

The Schedule: Memories Part 3 of 3  
By Jenna

 

 

* * Sunday, Week Nine * *

Josh woke up from another 10 hours of sleep in time to join Donna and Dr. Bartlet for a late breakfast. Dr. Bartlet had just returned from early Mass, having left her non-Catholic, not-particularly-religious guests sleeping in. Her husband was definitely the more religious one in their union. Her medical studies had brought her into more issues where she had disagreed with the established doctrine of the Catholic Church. Still, the old rituals brought a sense of peace and a connection to the eternal mysteries of life. She knew Josh and Donna were children of God regardless of whether they professed faith in a particular doctrine or any doctrine.

"So, what would you guys like to do today?" The First Lady asked.

"It should be a gorgeous day," Donna mentioned looking out the window at the sunlight filtering through the leaves. It seemed like just a week or so ago it was still winter. Now everything was green.

"Maybe you'd like to take a ride in the country. Have a picnic... I can arrange for a car." Dr. Bartlet added, "I have to go through some consultation files, so I'll be shut up in my office most of the day."

"Josh... You not much on picnicking?" Dr. Bartlet asked noticing Josh staring at the centerpiece.

"Huh? No, that's fine. I...I was just thinking about my father's grave. Whenever I'm home, my mother and I go out and plant some flowers... I was just thinking that Mrs. Landingham's grave could use some flowers. Real flowers, I mean, not the arrangements left Friday. They're probably dying now... That whole cemetery... I dunno... Beth's not going to get up here much, her family's buried in Massachusetts, and there's no one else left." He shrugged and kept his eyes on the flower arrangement on the table

Dr. Bartlet and Donna looked at each other. Josh should obviously be drugged to sleep more often if this was the result.

"We could go to the Garden Center and buy some plants," Donna said.

"It's a wonderful idea Josh. There are shovels and rakes in the gardening shed, and I have some old gloves around here somewhere. I used to putter around in the garden when I had time," the First Lady added. "I'm sure when Jed goes out to the gravesite next weekend, he'd prefer to see some live plants rather than just dead arrangements."

"I wasn't trying to earn brownie-points."

I know, Josh, but I think you're going to get them anyway."

"Come to think of it, I probably need all the brownie-points I can get. I'm pretty good at getting myself into trouble," Josh said ruefully.

Donna reached over and touched his hand, smiling her approval.

Mrs. Bartlet asked the servant to get the head of the Secret Service detail assigned to her protection. She informed the agent that Josh and Donna were going out to work at Mrs. Landingham's Family Cemetery and would be need a car. The agent said he would make the arrangements and a car would be ready for them at 11:00.

Josh and Donna changed into work clothes and sneakers, scrounged up some gardening gloves, and went out front to await the car at 11:00. They had assumed the agents were going arrange for a rental car, but were surprised when a black Suburban pulled around front and the two secret service agents Josh had jogged with Friday morning got out of the car. Even in casual clothes, there was no mistaking them for anything other than Secret Service.

"Sir, we're off duty today, and we were wondering if it'd be all right if we came along and helped," the tall black man asked.

"She used to offer us cookies." The much shorter white woman added.

"Sure. Marcus Green and Sara Johnson, right?

"Yes, sir."

"It's just 'Josh', and this is my fiancée, Donna Moss."

"Yes, sir... Josh. Congratulations," Marcus added reaching out to shake Josh and Donna's hands.

Josh put his left hand to the small of Donna's back and explained. "It's not going to be announced for a while yet."

"Yes sir, 'Week 14'" Sara volunteered with a slight smile and shaking hands in turn.

Josh did a double take at her words and looked at Donna "Does everyone know about that schedule."

"Only the people who've been trusted to watch out for you," Sara explained.

Josh blushed slightly and looked away, remembering how the agents had protected him from scrutiny last January when he'd had a PTSD episode during the trip to Dallas. He hadn't been in any shape to notice which agents those were, but he figured these two must have been among them.

He stammered, "Thanks for--"

"Don't mention it, sir... Josh." Marcus said. "We've already grabbed the tools. What say we find some lovely plants to honor a lovely lady?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

At the Garden Center, the picked out a number of flowering or decorative plants and bushes not only to landscape around Mrs. Landingham's grave, but also those of her husband, sons, parents and grandparents. At the register, Josh found out that Dr. Bartlet had called ahead and that he should just put his credit card away. The bill had already been taken care of.

Donna remembered the necessity for a picnic lunch, but it seems that Dr. Bartlet had already arranged with Sara and Marcus to pick that up at a little country store/restaurant on the way -- well, not really on the way, but the First Lady had assured them that it was a more scenic way and worth the extra miles. The two agents rode in the front of the Suburban and Josh and Donna enjoyed the opportunity of just being able to just be driven someplace as a couple. He had an arm draped around her shoulder and she rested her head on his chest as they talked about the scenic drive, the plants they'd picked out, and wondered what Dr. Bartlet had arranged for lunch. Josh and Marcus figured the country story was now a Subway Sandwich shop while Donna and Sara held out for the country picnic staples of fried chicken and potato salad. The guys crowed at seeing the familiar yellow sign, but the country store turned out to be next door and the women were closer: the chicken was grilled.

They unloaded the plants and then ate their picnic lunch across from the cemetery at a little stream. They found a perfect spot under the shade of a gnarled tree that looked like it must have been there a hundred years. Sara and Marcus felt like they should give Josh and Donna some time alone, so after eating they made an excuse about exploring a bit. They barely got out of sight when Josh and Donna heard them yell to come look. Josh and Donna went to see what they had found. The brook had formed a pool and the remnant of an old rope swing could still be detected where the tree limb had grown around it. The old swimming hole was overgrown and not at all appealing now, but on hot July days 60-odd years ago, they thought it had probably enticed young Delores Knudsen and her playmates.

With the reason they came back at the forefront of their thoughts, they packed their picnic items and spent the rest of the afternoon raking, planting, and tidying up the old Knudsen Family Cemetery. Several of the headstones had fallen over or were leaning. The guys did what they could to fix them, but decided if they had the chance, they'd come back with some Quick-Crete and do it right. They removed the dying floral arrangements, and spread the still-living blossoms around. They didn't want to leave the Styrofoam, cardboard, or ribbons to become faded and bedraggled trash on Mrs. Landingham's grave. Finally, they called it a day and sat in the peaceful stillness of the graveyard watching the sun turn red and sink into the clouds. Physically exhausted, they would all sleep well tonight. Josh watched as the last glow of red fade into night, he placed a small stone on Mrs. Landingham's grave in remembrance, and followed the others to the car.

* * *

* * Monday Week Nine * *

The First Lady's party returned to Washington on Monday morning. Dr. Bartlet went to greet her husband, with whom she was feeling more charitable today. Along with a passionate kiss and offering her unfailing support for his decision to run again, she informed him that anytime he wanted to fight Leo for the rights to adopt Josh as his surrogate son she'd be glad to help -- maybe grab his arms or trip him or something.... Josh'd 'done good', and she'd also have been proud to have had a son like him.

Josh, in contrast, wasn't thinking highly of himself. As he met with Leo and found out he had a 1:30 appointment with his therapist, Josh was thinking he was weak and defective. Dr. Friedman was an expert in PTSD. If his old therapist Stanley had been a PTSD expert, as the other Stanley or Dr. Friedman were, he might have recognized the guilt complex for what it was and realized that Josh's PTSD went back to his childhood. Leo had talked to Dr. Friedman about the stress Josh had been under lately and Josh's own concerns about his condition. They'd agreed that it might be best if Josh returned to weekly visits until things calmed down -- if they calmed down. Leo also informed Josh that he could expect to be physically removed from the White House if he tried to work after Leo ordered him to leave.

The week passed in a flurry of activity with the main purpose being damage control for the MS announcement. The staff endeavored to keep up the appearance that everything was 'business as usual', but there was always a focus on making sure the president was shown doing physical activities, making clever quips, and showing off his intelligence. Discussions of President Bartlet's health lead to stories of his being shot the previous year, which lead to stories of the upcoming anniversary of the assassination attempt on the President and the near death of his trusted aide, Josh Lyman. It seemed the press and public had forgotten by that Carl Leroy had publicly stated that Charlie was the intended target, and the President was content to spare Zoey and Charlie that notoriety. Josh was uneasy at the shooting coverage, thinking that any attention brought to his shooting might lead to questions regarding his health and that his weekly therapy sessions might be noticed. Fortunately, the press generally ignored his shooting as 'old news' and concentrated on coverage of the President.

Unfortunately, Dr. Bartlet didn't ignore his health. Monday evening he was informed that he was not to eat after 9:00 p.m. or even have any coffee in the morning. Tuesday morning he underwent a physical complete with blood-work. Wednesday, Donna filled his two new prescriptions and took charge of making sure he took his medication. To sweeten the deal, she also fixed dinner for him. Thursday, Leo ordered him out of the White House at 8:30 and five minutes later Marcus Green showed up to politely encourage him to leave -- now. Friday, he and Donna went out for dinner then picked Beth up at the airport.

Beth stayed with Donna that night, and after stopping for breakfast Saturday morning, the two young women ventured over to Mrs. Landingham's apartment. Mrs. Landingham had rented an upper floor of an early 1900s single family home that had been converted into apartments. Her apartment was reached by going around to the back and walking up an old wooden staircase. The President had tried to get her to live in one of the huge modern apartment complexes with all the bells and whistles, but she would have none of it. She was used to old houses and loved the quiet older neighborhood with the big trees. She didn't need air conditioning and besides, unlike the modern apartments, this one had a real dining room for her treasured cherry dining room table with six chairs and matching sideboard--one of the few furnishings that she'd refused to part with when she sold the house. She'd searched for years to find the perfect dining room set that wasn't too heavy, or too formal.

Donna and Beth crept into the apartment as if they were trespassing. They almost expected Mrs. Landingham to come out of the bedroom and ask them what they thought they were doing. Realizing they'd both been holding their breath, they exhaled and smiled at each other in relief and encouragement that they'd managed to make it that far. Now -- where to start?

Donna set down the moving boxes she's carried up and said, "I'll start to put these together. Have you seen these? You just punch out the sides and they... well, they're supposed to make the bottom." She said adjusting the bottom flaps so they worked. Anyway, then the top flaps slide in like this" she demonstrated. "Voila, no more taping. Only, we need to tape them anyway for shipping..."

'Those are cool. I wish I'd had that kind when I moved to Boston," Beth replied. There was a knock on the door and someone tried the knob.

"Hey, it's us." Margaret said poking her head in the door.

"Just in time," Donna replied. Beth, this is Margaret, she's Leo McGarry's assistant, and Ginger is Toby Ziegler's assistant."

The women made their greetings and Donna lead the discussion into a mutually agreeable game plan. Margaret offered to tackle the kitchen, tossing out the perishable foods --and holding her nose while she cleaned out the refrigerator. Any usable food items they'd either divvy up or donate to the local food pantry. Ginger would go through Mrs. Landingham's bedroom and bath.

Anything that looked like important papers or bills would be set on the desk for Josh and Sam to look at after lunch. Other stuff would be sorted into 'trash', 'treasure' (for Beth to decide on), or 'donate' piles. Donna and Beth would do the living room and dining room, with Beth running around to make any trash/treasure/donate or 'overrule' decisions where necessary. 'Overrule' being panic-stricken "no, you can't donate that, Aunt Delores used to make gingerbread men for me with that old beat-up cookie cutter. I have to keep that." As the morning wore on, it became apparent that Beth needed to be more heartless in deciding what to donate or she'd be driving a U-Haul back to Boston rather than shipping some boxes.

At 12:30 Josh and Sam showed up with the requisite pizza and beer. They all sat down at Mrs. Landingham's cherry dining room table and toasted her memory. Going through her possessions, they had to be ruthless and set aside their personal attachment. They had to forget these things were the physical sum of her lifetime. They had to not remember the last time they'd seen her wear that... That, these were the books she had cherished enough to bring them with her to Washington. But sometimes... they failed. Margaret had burst into tears at seeing a package of chocolate chips, and then they had all started crying. Donna had found Ginger sitting on the bed lost in memories fingering a silk scarf as silent tears rolled down her face. Donna lost it that afternoon when Josh found a small box in Mrs. Landingham's desk, wrapped in white paper and addressed to Joshua and Donna Lyman.

Sam and Josh sorted through her papers, locating a few stock certificates and savings bonds. Sam organized the insurance and banking information as well as any outstanding bills for her estate to pay. President Bartlet had seen to it that she'd made a will and left it with his family lawyer back in Manchester. A Xerox copy of the will was found, as already known, leaving everything to Beth. Beth promptly bequeathed the silk scarf to Ginger, and the chocolate chips (along with a set of mixing bowls and assorted cookie-baking stuff) to Margaret. They all ended up taking home way too many little things, but that was the way it always goes. Beth had already inherited her mother and grandmother's belongings. Better that her possessions go to friends who would use them and remember Delores Landingham with a fond smile than for them to end up with strangers or the local landfill.

Josh and Sam filled up their cars and took loads of donations to Goodwill and dropped off a couple of sacks at the Food Pantry. Then hauled loads of trash down to the curb after the landlord came by and assured them that Monday was trash day and that's what they should do. The appliances belonged to the apartment, but the furniture had come with Mrs. Landingham. The new tenants wanted to move in next week, and they had their own furniture, so it all had to go. But that would have to wait until tomorrow. Seven moving boxes full of memories were all that Beth ended up keeping. The money she inherited from the insurance would allow her to go back to school and get her Masters. Maybe buy a house... and she really needed to replace her trusty old Volvo. It didn't really matter. Money didn't buy family, and she was all alone now.

Sunday morning Josh and Sam rented a truck and recruited Ed and Larry to help deliver furniture. Margaret had offered to buy the sofa for $100, but Beth said that was too much and had sold it to her for $50. Ginger bought the dresser and a couple of small side tables for not much more. Other odds and ends went to Goodwill. As the two White House senior staffers and two aides struggled with delivering furniture to Margaret and Ginger's apartments, they gained an appreciation for manual laborers and groused about how they were too important and made way too much money to be doing this. They should have just hired someone to do this... But, it hadn't seemed like such a big deal, and anyway, they hadn't thought about it in time to hire movers. Besides, there were some things that just felt like you should do them yourself, and this was one of them. As Sam put it, 'it was good for the soul'. Margaret and Ginger were just grateful they hadn't recruited Leo and Toby to act as movers. Finally the four men, Donna and Beth were left looking at the beautiful cherry dining room furniture.

"You could have it shipped down to Boston," Donna said.

"I just don't have a place for it. I'd like it to stay in the family, but..."

Josh looked at the women running their fingers over the beautifully polished wood and wondering what to do.

"I have a dining room. And, as it happens, I'm planning on entertaining more in the future. If you're willing to sell it that is..." he said softly.

The two women beamed in approval at the perfect solution. The table would stay in the extended family. The guys took the table apart and carefully wrapped it in blankets for the trip to Josh's. Larry and Ed (who'd thought to think to bring his tool chest in his car) put the table back together and placed the chairs around it. The second-hand table that Josh had mostly used as a desk was hauled to Goodwill along with the last load from Mrs. Landingham's apartment. The sideboard required a second trip to Josh's and proved to be a pain to maneuver up the stairs and into the townhouse. Ed and Larry departed from Josh's with plans to head to a sports bar and catch the game.

Donna and Beth had vacuumed and cleaned the apartment while Sam and Josh took the final load to Goodwill and returned the truck. Beth returned the key to the landlord and Josh and Donna took her back to Donna's to clean up and get her luggage. The seven boxes were split between the trunks of Sam, Donna, and Josh's cars to be shipped off, courtesy of the White House, on Monday. Josh and Donna took Beth to the airport and returned to his townhouse to eat Chinese takeout at the cherry dining room table. In the center of the table, Donna had placed the small box wrapped in white paper addressed to Joshua and Donna Lyman.

Both of them were lost in memories of Mrs. Landingham and thoughts of their own mothers. Someday, it would be their own mother's possessions that they would have to sort into 'trash', 'treasure', or 'donate' piles. Someday the 'too much stuff' they complained about in their mother's houses --the evidence of a lifetime of memories -- would have to be ruthlessly discarded leaving only a few boxes of memories...

"Josh... Let's call your mom..."

* * *

The End


End file.
